Wyne and Song by Donna Michaels Page B

that’s this part here.” She tapped that part of her foot, and when they nodded, she continued. “Now comes the arm part. While you’re squatting, bring your arms behind your back, then when you start to jump, you swing them forward fast and up into the air. This causes momentum which will propel you up, and that is when you stretch as far as you can as quickly as you can. Feel that stretch in your ankles and knees and hips.” Once again, she demonstrated and they copied. “Okay, that’s it. Let’s put it all together and jump high.”
    A second later, the children were springing into the air, marveling over the new heights they reached. After five minutes of jumping and laughing, they thanked her at the older man’s urging, then gazed up at her with their big, pleading eyes, begging her to teach them how to ninja roll. Actually just a forward roll, but they thought ninja roll sounded cooler.
    And what she found cool was watching the children having fun.
    “Are you a teacher?” the grandfather asked when she returned to the bench.
    She laughed. “No. I’m—”
    The ringing of the phone in her pocket cut her off. Fishing it out, she glanced at the caller ID and recognized the landlord’s number. “Sorry. I have to take this,” she told the man. “Enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”
    “You, too,” he replied.
    With a quick wave to the children jumping and playing nearby, she answered the phone while turning to the path that led to the resort. By the time she walked halfway up the trail, she ended the call with plans to meet the landlord in an hour at a local restaurant to sign papers. For a day that started off a little rocky, it was turning out to be a good one.
    Still basking in the afterglow of the children’s joy, and her satisfaction of being the cause, she started to hum a tune that made her happy. The only reason she refrained from singing was because she didn’t want to disturb the nearby wildlife. Which she hoped was only squirrels and raccoons and not bobcats and bears. A quick glance around the brush and endless trees put her mind at ease. No beady eyes. At least, none that she could see.
    She was almost out of the woods, but had another bend before a long straightaway, so she continued to hum as a sort of critter deterrent, or at the very least, a warning that a human was near.
    Of course, she could also be alerting a serial killer or ax murderer of her presence. Not a comforting thought. Deciding to hum louder—because everyone knew humming loud scares away psychopaths—she picked up her pace a little, too. All of the sudden, the peace and solitude wasn’t as relaxing as when she’d walked the path earlier.
    As she rounded the bend, she nearly jumped out of her skin, and it would’ve been a heck of a lot higher than earlier with the kids if she hadn’t recognized the tall, broad shouldered silhouette heading her way.
    She waved, happy to see a familiar face one second, then immediately beseeched with that stupid shyness again. “Hi, Ethan.”
    “Hey, Phoebe,” he replied, coming to a stop in front of her. “Thought I recognized the humming.”
    Heat rushed up her neck, flooding her cheeks the moment her brain seized on the memory of when he’d last heard her humming—while she was climaxing with him buried deep inside.
    Fate would’ve been kinder dealing her that ax murderer. Or two.
    He shook his head. “Sorry…I swear I didn’t mean…I was talking about your performance…on stage! Your performance on stage,” he rushed to say as the color in his face deepened.
    “It’s okay.” She laughed. “We’re quite the pair. For two people who insisted they could have one night of sex and then handle meeting again without any awkwardness, we’ve failed miserably.”
    He smiled. “True.”
    “I just want you to know I would’ve called to warn you I would be in town for a few weeks, but I didn’t have your number, and thought it would raise a red flag if I asked Lea,” she